


The Third Glass

by Nacority



Category: Transistor (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Red/Sybil Reisz (unrequited), Sybil and Red are just mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 17:19:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5594566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nacority/pseuds/Nacority
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When faced with the inevitability of death, two lovers hide up in a bunker and watch the world end, waiting for a third guest.<br/>They might be leaving earlier than planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Third Glass

Asher had only just finished a recording when Grant brought out the drinks. 

“She’s making good progress, you know.” Asher turned to his partner who was fumbling to set up the glassware. Never had he seen Grant in a state like this, not even after the initial loss of the Transistor. His hair, usually slicked back and kept in a tidy bun, was now disheveled, his normally well-thought out actions now rushed. He was getting reckless. They all did stupid things when they got reckless. Asher knew this. One would only need to look back at the Empty Set incident for an example. Now they were trapped in bracket towers, paying the price for their faults and watching their fair city be torn apart. 

They hadn’t meant for this to happen. 

“If she continues like this she should be here rather soon” commented Asher once more. Grant seemed unaffected by the comment, gazing at the horizon on his fair city. He had only wanted the best for Cloudbank. Why else would he become an administrator if his priorities held the city’s well being above his very own. That’s why he had formed the Camerata in the first place. For the wellbeing of the city. Not this. 

“I’m sorry about all of this.” He didn’t turn to face Asher. 

“It’s not your fault,” Asher replied.  _ “If there’s anyone’s to blame, it’s Sybil _ ”. That was the thought left unsaid between the two, though the sentiment was mutual. Still, neither would outright blame their fellow Camerata member for the loss of the Transistor. They understood what it was like to be in love. 

They understood better than anyone. 

So of course they held some sympathy for her. As a mutual colleague, as a friend, as a partner in crime, they sympathized for her. As a poor, lovesick child, they sympathized.  But love couldn’t bring back the Transistor, couldn’t control the process, and couldn’t save their fair city. 

Asher turned back the the OVC terminal and began another recording. Red was making exceptional progress. Both Kendrells were surprised by her abilities with the Transistor, mastering most of it’s functions and easily taking out the process that had swarmed the tower. She only needed to get the second access point, and she would be upon them. He had no idea what she would be like when she met them in person again. There would be anger, no doubt, they had tried to integrate her but instead managed to get...him. A Mr. Nobody in the Cloudbank records, a man that practically lived off the grid. Unheard of in this age. Of course, this managed to completely unravel the tight grip the Camerata had on the city and the process. But, there was no time to dwell on the past at a time like this. Asher began the recording.  Behind him, Grant moved about their bunker. In his peripheral vision, he saw Grant add something to the duo of cups set on  the small table near the chalkboard. After finishing his recording, he turned to see what had been added to their final arrangements.

“A third glass?” Asher looked at Grant with a puzzled expression. 

“You said she’ll be up here soon, didn’t you?” Replied Grant, beginning to fill the drinks.

Oh.

“It’d only be polite to offer.” Of course. Grant had always had a charitable disposition. Even when he was losing his poise, he still thought of others. Even when he was about to-

The true gravity of their situation crept upon Asher, but he quickly dismissed it. He had always been a writer, good at expressing his emotions through words but not at controlling them. But he had to. For Grant’s sake. 

Behind him, Grant picked up his glass and studied it. The limited light was refracted by the glass and created a dull rainbow on the chalkboard. He was reminded of the skypainter, Farrah Yon-Dale. The odd combination of the varied colors against the muted green of the board seemed like a perfect color combination for the young artist. Too bad she was gone. Too bad her sacrifice was for nothing. With her trace in the Transistor and the Transistor out of their hands, the city was ruined. His city. He held the glass up to his face and studied the reflection, no longer able to stand looking at the consequences of his actions. The reflection of a city, once grand in size and culture, vibrant in color and people, now being washed away amid a sea of sterile whites and reds. Whites and reds. A grimace spread on his face. The destruction of the city was mirrored in his own apparel. Whites and reds. How shameful. He studied his own reflection in the green liquid, showing the shadow of a man, a once powerful and trusted man, now a mere shell of his former self. Whites and reds. He contemplated. 

Back at the OVC terminal, Asher contemplated his own fate as well. “At least it’s by our own hands that we leave rather than by way of the process.” he thought to himself. Other Camerata members were not as lucky as they were. Sybil. She truly loved this woman enough to stay behind. Hopefully the country would be kind to her. Afterall, whatever fate awaited her there, the Kendrells would surely share. He spared another glance at the glassware. Three cups. Three tickets to the country.  “Besides,” he thought,tearing his gaze away, “it’s a poetic way to go out”. This wasn’t the first time he told himself that, nor was it the first time he secretly didn’t  believe his own words. But, it was his way of coping in order to carry out the necessary deeds in their final moments. What else was there to do?

“Asher?” He couldn’t turn around, for fear of losing his resolve. There was still work to do, he couldn’t falter now. “I love you, you know that right?” Hands stilled at the terminal, clenching into fists.

“I love you too, Grant.” A soft voice, wavering but not breaking. Asher bussied himself at the terminal once more.

 

“...But suppose she doesn’t want to take this way out?”

 

The only response was a loud thud and the faint tink of glass hitting the floor. 

**Author's Note:**

> There's a third glass left on the table near the chalkboard in Grant& Asher's bunker. I think they meant for her to drink it and didn't expect her to want to go after Royce?  
> Anyways first fic hope you enjoyed.  
> Also sorry I have no idea how to format.


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